Death and Games
by Rysler
Summary: George and Roxy go to a high school softball game to take a soul.


George had never considered herself particularly athletic. Sports involved teams and that wasn't going to happen with her. She was fragile--Not Daisy-fragile--but at least Mason-fragile. Outsider fragile. College had been just like high school. Teams and rallies and drugs. George didn't like to participate. Reaping was a solitary occupation. Maybe she had been born to do it. Or died to do it. Whatever.

She'd gotten the Post It with the athletic field's address. Roxy had offered to drive her in the squad car. George saw that as a bonus. Roxy would turn on the blue light at any provocation. No preaching about abusing the rules. George found that refreshing.

Roxy was dead and didn't give a shit. George wanted to be just like her when she grew up. She already had the not giving-a-shit part down. Getting a gun would be the next step. The athletic field event turned out to be a high school softball game, so George and Roxy settled onto the bleachers to wait for someone's demise.

George shrugged out of her sweatshirt and glared at the white sky. "God, it's fucking hot." She paused. Counted to ten. Tried again. "God? It's fucking hot! Damn."

A single line of beaded sweat creased Roxy's forehead. She glanced sideways at George, and said, "Did you really expect Him to answer?"

"I expected Him to show some fucking mercy. You know, compassion? Isn't that what He does?"

Roxy looked back at the field. "Hey, George, maybe He did you a favor, if this is what your life was like before... You know. Homecoming."

"No. I was a college dropout. Not a high school drop out. Big difference. I transitioned. Or some bullshit."

"Tremendous."

George wrinkled up her nose, and said, "Thanks for coming with me, Roxy."

Roxy shifted, cracking her back. "Oh, sure. It's on my beat, anyhow," she said.

"In case someone gets hit with a bat?"

"Yeah. Parents are dangerous these days," Roxy said. She caressed her gun.

"I hope you get to shoot someone."

"Me too, kid."

George sighed. She dug out a wrinkled Post-It from her shorts pocket.

"Who's the hit?" Roxy asked.

"M Kandecky," said George. "I wonder who she--"

"Hey, Kandecky!" The third base coach called to the bench. "Start warming up."

"Convenient," said George. A girl with Kandecky on the back of her shirt went to the practice mound.

"Unless the whole team is Kandeckys," said Roxy.

George scanned the field. The other shirts had different names on them. "Doesn't look like."

Roxy nodded.

George pushed herself off the bleachers. M. Kandecky was just beyond the chain link fence, practicing her swing.

"Hey," said George.

Kandecky wandered over and asked, "I know you?"

"Seen you around school. I think we have English together?" George tried. Everyone had English. Kandecky didn't really strike her as a band nerd. But who knew?

Kandecky regarded her suspiciously.

George covered Kandecky's hand where it rested on the fence. "I just wanted to wish you good luck," she said., meeting her eyes. Kandecky's soul transferred to her. Her own hand tingled with warmth. Kandecky looked surprised--They always looked surprised. Kandecky retreated. George climbed back onto the bleachers.

"Smooth," said Roxy.

George wrung her hands. Her soul-sucking hand still itched. She said, "You know, before I died, I never dreamed of walking up to someone and starting a goddamn conversation."

"And now?"

"Now, if I see two strangers talking, I try and figure out which is the reaper."

Roxy shrugged. "How do you know they're strangers? I saw two friends just now having quick words before one goes up to bat. Or maybe sisters. Or maybe lovers."

"Roxy."

"You can't assume anything, George. Preconceived notions make you miss what's really out there."

"I assume that if I was sleeping with her, I would know," George said.

Roxy smiled. "You'd think."

Kandecky went up to bat. A graveling peered around the leg of the third base coach. George narrowed her eyes at the graveling, and asked, "Do you think we should only come out at night? All this reaping in the daylight is kind of morbid."

"We're not vampires, George."

"I know. I know we're not vampires." George crossed her arms. "But... aren't we? We suck souls. And then they're undead."

"You watch too much TV," Roxy said.

"I don't even have a TV. I'm dead."

Roxy rolled her eyes.

Kandecky connected with the ball on the third pitch. George followed the ball as it rose in an arc, and then slowly fell again, on the far side of the back fence. "Nice," said George.

Roxy grunted.

"Lovers?" Asked George.

"George..."

"You ever been attracted to a woman, Roxy?"

"Halle Berry."

George nodded.

"You?"

"Marisa Tomei."

"Christ, George."

"I'm a product of my generation," said George proudly.

"And that's why we're watching a softball game on a very fucking hot day, instead of in a nice, air-conditioned rave or something. What has Article 9 gotten you folks? Really?"

"Raves are held in big warehouses or in the desert. Heat or bugs and drugs and B.O. Way too much B.O."

"Fuck your generation, George."

"Word."

Kandecky was taking her home run lap, rounding third base and heading home. The graveling threw a banana peel onto the line in front of her. Dust and chalk flew up in a spray. Kandecky's left foot hit the peel and she slipped, twisting up into the air and then falling. She landed hard. Her head snapped back, cracking.

George cringed.

Kandecky's body settled. One sneaker rested on home plate. The catcher tore off her mask and ran to the body."Kandecky! You all right? Marie!"

"Damn," said Kandecky from George's side. "I've heard of a career-ending injury, but that's overkill. Overkill. Ha."

George patted her arm.

"Hey, you can hear me? Does that mean... "

"Nope, you're dead. We're just dead, too."

"Damn."

George reached over and squeezed her hand. "Sorry."

"It's okay. Poor Jude. That's the catcher. I told her we couldn't do it until after the game. And now look. She's going to be pissed."

"She'll be fine."

Kandecky glanced around. "Are there a lot of dead people?"

"Well.. not a lot. I think."

"I guess I don't have to worry about junior prom."

"You're only sixteen?" George asked.

"Yeah. Why? Are there statutory rape laws in the afterlife or something?"

George snorted, and asked, "Is that where your mind goes?"

"I'm sixteen."

"Oh. Yeah. Well, the dead do not get laid. Much. Er... But I was just thinking... You had your whole life ahead of you."

"What was I supposed to do with it, anyway?"

George shrugged. "Hell if I know."

Kandecky leaned back. She said, "You know, when you called me over, I thought it'd be cool to see you again. Not like this, but... You know. I'm glad it wasn't just chance."

George furrowed her brow. Kandecky still had her hand, and she wasn't sure quite what to say. So she just sat in the fucking sun. Kandecky seemed to be taking it easy. George had to admit she was impressed with the girl's attitude.

Kandecky tilted her face to the sunlight. She said, "This is a great game. Can we stay until the end?"

"Does it really matter who wins?"

"Of course not. I just want to see them play. Man, I love this game," Kandecky said.

George tried to pay more attention.


End file.
